Tuesday, June 05, 2012

It's like I'm new
to blogging, like I've never done it before, tentatively taking my
first steps into a world of writing about whatever in the vain hope
that someone reads it, while simultaneously hoping no one does.
Wanting to write something, and being so self absorbed as to write
almost entirely about oneself, but so unconvinced of ones own worth
that can't think of anything more tedious than ones own thoughts and
activities. God, blogging is boring. I'm unofficially considering
myself on a wee bit of a hiatus.

It's times like
this when I really ought to be working hard to find my own unique
take on the Queen's diamond jubilee or the relay of the Olympic
torch, but I honestly couldn't give two flying gibbering jabbering
moulting leaping squawking squatting wanking fucks about either of
the tedious fucking things. I'm hostile to them both. But neither
particularly knowledgeable nor hostile enough to be able to
string together coherent rants or arguments. So the easier option is
just to act like neither of them are happening. Which is lucky, cos
neither of them are happening. They are just a collective delusion,
the madness of crowds, the flag-waving of the rank and file, the
sycophancy of the enslaved.

Other subjects or
recent personal experience any writer worth his salt would be using
and abusing for source of copy are the awesome ring I now must
wear as a 'keep off' sign to all the billions of the world's women
who happen not to be my wife; the experience of delivering a speech
and the surprising relaxed ease in which it was done; the weird,
fucking weird, experience of being a customer in an Apple
store (which could not be more weird, fucking weird, if it
were staffed by the suicides manning the desks in Beetlejuice's
afterlife bureaucracy); having a massage for the first, and so far
only, time. And all the others. Breathing in and out and catching a
bus. Oh, and I saw my first Orange marches in Belfast, immediately
followed by (in a different part of the city centre, not as part of
the same cultural event) capoeiristas, drummers and berimbau players
presenting a display of Brazilian music and martial arts.

Stuff to write
about, I'm just well wound down and finding it difficult to return to
the same level of urgency. …..GO! ….....GO! I'm trying to get
myself going, and this fairly pointless post about nothing is my way
of encouraging myself.